Page 14 of Caper Crush
“Let the police talk to them first,” William says.
“But if the police talk to them, their guard will be up. And I need to find my painting now. What if they destroy it, thinking it doesn’t have any value? I mean, it really doesn’t have any cash value. It’s not like you can sell it on the open market. It’s not famous. But to me, it’s everything.” My voice breaks. I just can’t sit here and not do anything to find it.
Takashi taps his pencil. “We’ve known Kimberly since she started her catering company. We don’t know her staff, and they were also here, but I don’t think it’s Kimberly. Then again, I didn’t think the paintings would be stolen. And she did leave with a food cart after she finished cooking.”
“I agree she had the opportunity. But speaking from my own experience, if I’ve put in all that effort to start my own company, my reputation is everything. It’s not worth stealing a painting, even if the Kimimoto is worth half a million.” William types notes into the spreadsheet. “Who else could have carried the paintings out?” He turns to Takashi.
“I just can’t fathom that it would have been one of our close friends,” I say. “Let me call Kimberly and pretend I want to hire them.”
“Here’s the number,” Takashi says.
William shakes his head.
“She is capable,” Takashi says to William. “The waitstaff also left with food carts and a wagon—all the serving trays and dishes. I don’t remember who else had big enough bags. Vinnie had a large art portfolio because he was showing us the posters for his show featuring the Kimimoto.” Takashi stands. “Without more information, I wouldn’t suspect any of these people. I’m going to make some tea.” Cleo trails him out of the room.
I call Kimberly’s number. William leans forward in his chair across from me and stares at me, his fingers poised to type up notes on his laptop. He glances down when I give him my “piss off” look.
“Hi, I’ve heard wonderful things about your company, and I’m wondering if you have a sample menu tasting. I’m looking to hire a catering company for a party I’m having,” I say. “You’ve had a cancellation? Great, I’ll see you in an hour.”
“You’re just going over there in an hour—with no preparation?” William asks.
“What do I need to prepare?” I ask. “Time is of the essence, and I’m going to get a sense of what she’s like.”
“What are you going to do, just ask her outright, did you steal the paintings?” William asks.
“Not directly, Watson.”
“Do you do indirectly?” William asks.
“I can be subtle,” I say. “It’s just not my preferred mode of being.”
William snorts. “It would almost be worth it to see your definition of acting with subtlety. But still, we should let the police interview them first.”
“I can’t sit around and wait for the police to handle it when it’s not going to be their top priority. I won’t be in the show unless I find the painting.” I can’t help it; my eyes well with tears. “I’m not asking you to come.” I wipe away a tear with my hand.
William hands me a handkerchief. I didn’t even know handkerchiefs existed anymore. This one is crisply ironed. I wipe under my eyes.
“Thank you. I’ll wash it and return it. But I don’t iron.”
He gives a half smile. “That’s okay.”
Why would a man like William—so reserved—carry a handkerchief? He’s not about to cry in public. And it has that lovely, fresh-laundry smell, not like it’s been sitting in his pocket, forgotten. I bite my lip.
William has hidden depths.I’ll figure you out, William.I do like a challenge.
“I’m coming.” He stands.
“You agree with me?” I ask.
“No, I’m coming to do damage control.”
“Charming.”
“Exactly. I’ll play the charming good cop.” He leans against the wall, his hands in his pockets.
“You’ll get in the way. Just stay here and do some Internet research.”
“If we have an hour, I’ll do some research on them before we go.” He sits, signing back in to the laptop.
